


Unwelcome Guest

by The_Silver_Souled_Hunter



Series: Identity V/Bloodborne AU [3]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), 第五人格 | Identity V (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Torture, Needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24999244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter/pseuds/The_Silver_Souled_Hunter
Summary: The moment Naib set foot in the Cathedral Ward, the Healing Church took him in.  After all, no Yharnamite would care or notice if an outsider went missing, nor would they believe him if he survived...
Series: Identity V/Bloodborne AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809616
Kudos: 11





	Unwelcome Guest

“Tighten the restraints! Do _not_ let him struggle! Any injuries could ruin the procedure!”

These orders flashed by in a blur to the restrained mercenary. His instincts were screaming that he was in danger, he needed to fight. But no matter how hard he thrashed, his bindings refused to budge. As his mind raced, he briefly reflected on how he’d ended up here.

Naib had barely spent a day in Yharnam before being snatched from the streets by hollow-faced men, if the robed creatures could even be called that. Now he was lying on a freezing metal table, his wrists, ankles, and abdomen held down by taut leather straps. Standing on all sides were church doctors in pristine white robes, headed by one in black gloves and an odd cap that shielded his eyes. Naib would have wondered how the hell he could see though it if not for his current predicament.

“We’ll start with Darkbeast blood this time, then follow through with sedatives and blue elixir.” The head doctor said. Naib’s eyes widened at the sight of a syringe. It held dark red blood with a tint of black and blue. He resumed his struggling, but it was pointless. One of the doctors kept his arm still as the needle pushed into his wrist.

Naib let out a shrill scream. Being riddled with enemy gunfire was almost nothing compared to this. Blinding pain shot up his arm and seeped into his torso. His veins were on fire, almost like sparks of electricity were jumping through his blood. It was as if he’d been struck by lightning while being torn apart by a wild animal.

Another injection was made in his left wrist. The sedatives traveled slower than the Darkbeast blood and seemed to weigh down his nerves. To his immeasurable relief, the medicine reduced most of the pain. The doctors left him lying with a dull pain stewing in his system for a few minutes before giving one more injection in his shoulder.

The mercenary stared blankly at the ceiling, mouth hanging open slightly as the anesthetic worked through him. Every one of his senses dulled, rendering him only vaguely aware of his surroundings. The doctor’s words had become garbled noise, the sparks in his blood were countless odd pricks, and the horrid scent of blood and chemicals was a barely noticeable burn. It was a mercy when he finally blacked out.

Naib’s sense of time had all but perished. He had no idea how long he’d been under the Healing Church’s “care”. Was it two or three days? Weeks? A month? How many times had they shoved needles into him? There had been little response when they dragged him out and unceremoniously left him on the streets. He thought he should have been relieved when he woke up on the sidewalk, the light from the rising sun in his eyes briefly dazzling him. Instead he felt violated. He’d been used as a lab rat and tossed aside like a piece of refuse.

The mercenary staggered to his feet and leaned against the nearest building. He limped down the walk, giving occasional gasps of pain. Naib was certain he’d fall over and die at any moment. He sat down against a cold brick wall and closed his eyes. With any luck the locals would pass right by him instead of kicking his frail form. That hope died when he heard footsteps approaching.

Naib flinched at the feeling of a gloved hand lightly shaking him. Cracking open an eye, he saw two coated figures looming over him, closely resembling the church servants who’d captured him. Had they come back to finish him off or drag him back to that horrid medical ward? With no energy to run or fight, he hid his face behind his hands.

“Easy there, son. We’re not going to hurt you.” One of the figures said. He didn’t want to believe her, but something about her voice calmed him. Naib pulled his hands away from his face and gazed up at the woman. He found himself staring up a beaked plague mask, which combined with the feathered cape draped over her navy blue coat gave her the appearance of a crow. She reached up to brush the hair from his eyes, but Naib swiftly pulled away.

“Tell me who you are. Are you with the Church?!” he demanded. The woman stared at him, but her mask made it impossible to read her. A lump formed in Naib’s throat as he took a deep breath. “They took me as soon as I arrived here. Gave me injections and just…tortured me.” He said. The mercenary choked out a sob, tears trickling down his cheeks. The crow woman gently held the side of his face in her hand. Naib shivered in her hold as he leaned into her touch, struggling to control his breathing.

“Shh, breathe, boy. In for five seconds, hold for twenty, out for ten…” she crooned. As he followed her instructions, gradually calming himself, her companion rubbed his back. “To answer your question, I am Eileen the Crow, a Hunter of Hunters. The scary one is Father Gascoigne. He left the Church a few years ago.” She said.

Naib turned to face Gascoigne. The man was huge, easily dwarfing him and Eileen. His church attire wasn’t as well-kept as those of his captors, and his messy grey hair and beard gave him a scruffy, yet oddly fatherly appearance. His eyes were hidden behind bandages, but the smile he gave was kind.

“No need to worry, lad. I was only a priest back then. Left for reasons having to do with…well, what those _monsters_ did to you.” He said. The way Gascoigne pronounced “monsters” with a noticeable growl sent a chill down Naib’s spine, not helped by his deep, gruff voice. He swiftly softened his expression again. "Do you at least remember your name?" he asked.

“It’s Naib Subedar. I used to be a Gurkha mercenary.” He said. He tried to stand, but his energy was gone. Naib collapsed, but Gascoigne caught him before he could hit the ground. He ignored the urge to squirm as he was lifted into the priest’s arms. This didn’t stop him from yelping when he was lifted into the air.

“Good lord! You’re lighter than my youngest!” Gascoigne exclaimed. The mercenary rolled his eyes and sighed, resting his head against Gascoigne’s chest. The urge to sleep was overwhelming, and his stomach gave a couple low rumbles. His only bed in the church cell had been little more than a plank of wood, his only real form of sustenance being stale bread, weak alcohol, and vials of blood.

As he rested in the priest’s hold, Eileen walked alongside them. Naib attempted to steel his gaze upon locking eyes with her mask. It only amounted to a tired, half-hearted glare, drawing a chuckle from her.

“Sounds like you’ve already got quite a bit of combat experience. That’ll be plenty useful in the night of the Hunt,” she remarked. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to train you once you’ve recovered. You won’t survive long if you don’t know how to properly kill a beast.” Naib barely made out the last few words. Killing beasts…he’d heard they were rampant in Yharnam, but he’d never thought of becoming a hunter. His attempt to speak amounted to a low groan.

“Get some rest, lad. We’ll have a warm meal ready by the time you wake up.” Gascoigne said. Naib could only manage a hum, being gradually rocked back to sleep with each step. He could worry about training, beasts, and other such things later. A hint of a smile formed on his face as he slipped into comfortable darkness.


End file.
